


Beastly

by ApocalypseBetty



Category: Scooby Apocalypse (Comics), Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Doggy Style, Edgeplay, F/M, Mutants, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Undead, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseBetty/pseuds/ApocalypseBetty
Summary: Set between issues #35 and #36 of the Scooby Apocalypse comics. Undead Fred is trying to convince Daphne that he is still Fred Jones; that his death has not altered, only deepened his love for her.
Relationships: Daphne Blake/Fred Jones
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was very fun to write as I love the Scooby Apocalypse comics. This does contain some rather rough and rowdy scenes, so if that's not your flavor, please don't read.

Daphne moved under the spray of the hot shower, leaning her forehead against the cold tile wall and watching the grime from the nanite wasteland swirl down the drain.

Quentin Dinkley's complex seemed too good to be true. A modern day land of milk and honey. Enough space for each member of the gang to have their own quarters, complete with private adjacent bathrooms, and containing enough supplies to last a pre-nanite lifetime. After living so long cramped together, the idea of privacy between them was almost foreign.

Daphne picked up a lavender scented shampoo, the scent a luxury in itself. For the last few years, the cleanser most commonly used was dish detergent and harsh handsoap from bathroom dispensers. Rough on the skin and scentless, but it wiped off monster gore just fine.

She poured a large glob into her hand and lathered her hair, enjoying the sudsy sensation. While her back was turned, she felt the survival instinct of eyes watching her bathe.

Daphne leaned her head into the water, letting it cascade down her body and rinse away her stress, as well as the soap.

She turned the knob off and glanced over her shoulder, not at all suprised to see her dead fiancè's resurrected corpse standing in the doorway of her bathroom. 

Daphne crossed her arms over her breasts, "Have you also become a peeping Tom since coming back from the grave?"

Fred tilted his head, "No," his eyes narrowed on her body, "I'm just not bound by modesty anymore. Death will do that to you." 

She noticed that he did not avert his eyes when she grabbed the towel from the hook. The living Fred Jones would have been more gentlemanly. He probably would have blushed and back pedaled out the door.

But this guy is not _really_ Fred, she kept telling herself. Never will be. Just a nanite controlled puppet. Pretending at being alive.

Daphne wrapped the towel tightly around herself and placed her hands on her hips, "Well, what do you want?"

Fred took a step forward, "To be close to you. I've spent so much time away from you already, Daphne."

"What have you been up to these past six months? Why didn't you come find me when you…woke up?" She asked accusingly.

He had to have known how hard she has grieved. Not only distraught about his demise, but in torment because she presumed his body had been stolen by those monsters and eaten. She had dedicated every minute of the last half a year to destroying every single flesh eating mutant she could find. Until this Fred-like abomination showed up.

"I'd rather not say," he said simply.

She nodded, understanding that his zombie activities were most likely not pleasant. "Why don't you go back to your own quarters? Get a shower, or…"

Fred waved her off causually, taking another step closer, almost directly in front of her. Within kissing distance if he was so inclined. "Because I don't have what I need in there."

Daphne felt her heart skip a beat, whether it was from fear or anticipation of hearing those words, she couldn't say. 

She gulped loudly, "And what, exactly, does a living dead version of Fred need?"

As if he was awaiting this very question, he growled and snatched her off her feet, tossing her body over his shoulder effortlessly, carrying her to the bed.

She fought hard, kicking and screaming. If he could still bruise, he's sure she would have left several.

He dropped her hard onto the bed, her head bouncing off the mattress. It must have knocked the wind out of her lungs because she was motionless for a brief moment.

Fred took advantage of the oppertunity, and used the weight of his body to pin her down. She struggled and flailed, but it made no difference. His nanite enhanced strength was no match for her simple human might.

Both of her hands still free, Daphne smacked him across his cheek, so hard she felt rebound pain burn in her palm.

If Fred experienced any pain himself from her pitiful attack, he didn't show it. His intense stare didn't waver from her eyes. Instead, one of his cold hands shot out, grasping both of hers in a tight grip, and holding them down to the mattress above her head 

Being defenseless made Daphne go nearly feral, she writhed beneath his body, "Get off me, you nanite bastard!"

"No," he said simply.

With his free hand, Fred grazed across her chest, still semi-hidden under the towel. In one smooth motion, he ripped off her covering, leaving Daphne bare to him, her nipples quickly peaking in the open air.

Her chest heaved, breasts moving in time to her breathing. Whether she was submitting to him or exhausted from her struggles, Fred didn't know.

He bent his head down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make Daphne groan. Pulling back, he enjoyed the quiver she made as he plucked the breast's twin, pinching it.

His voice was as calm and collected as ever, "You say I'm not the real Fred, that you don't want me. Don't _need_ me. But I disagree."

Daphne didn't say anything as he began kissing down her stomach, letting go of her hands. "Denial has always been your M.O., Daph, for as long as I've known you."

She inhaled deeply as Fred aggressively shoved her knees apart, nipping at her inner thighs. She could feel his next words against her skin, "You can say you don't want me all you like, but I can smell your arousal, Daphne," she hissed as he drug his tongue along her clit, "I could pick up your scent from my room."

This time, she did react. Reaching down to grab his messy hair, and pull him closer, his tongue lapping at her center. She bucked against him as he moved two fingers inside, while his mouth stimulated her outside. 

Her nails scratched against his scalp and her cries reverberated in the tiny room. She needed more, this wasn't enough.

Daphne ground her pelvis into his hand, becoming desperate. It wouldn't suprise her if anyone passing by the room could hear her passion.

She could feel the tightness building, her vision going blurry at the edges. So close.

And just as suddenly as he had taken her, he tore himself away, leaving Daphne to whimper out loud at the loss of his touch.

Fred stood, his undead voice stoically calm, "It must burn you up inside to want me this way. What would the gang think? Or your father? If they only knew how you wanted a resurrected nanite freak like me."

Ashamed to meet his gaze, she kept her focus on the ceiling and tried to control her breathing. He turned away, her legs still splayed wide open.

He was right.

He was _absolutely_ right.

She did want him. _Badly_.

Fred opened the door, "You know where to find me...if you really do want me. If you are willing to accept me as the Fred you promised to marry."

The door quietly clicked shut, leaving Daphne still panting. She felt more alone, more confused, than ever before.


	2. Chapter 2

Daphne paced up and down her bedroom, huffing and puffing.

_Damn him. Damn that Fred Jones. Or rather, damn those aggravating nanite creatures that inhabited his body._

For the past three hours, she had been trying, unsuccessfully, to clean her assault rifle. The various bits, mechanisms, and oil spread out over her bed.

_Much like she herself had been earlier._

_Pinned beneath him, his unnatural strength holding her down. His mouth moving downwards, his tongue bringing her such dangerous pleasure._

Her body was making it's wants known, needing that Fred-thing so badly, it was clogging every portion of her brain.

She needed this to stop. She knew it was wrong. He wasn't even human…anymore. This desire went beyond the normal taboo of the unnatural. It was clearly forbidden. And yet here she was, craving the touch of the ressecurected man she once loved.

She glared down at her weapon's innards, a gun she had meticulously cleaned and fired for the last two years. A gun she could re-assemble in her sleep. And still, for the last three hours she couldn't put one cog back together. Her thoughts being completely dominated by Fred.

XXXXXX

Fred was not surpised when he heard a soft knock at his door, although it being several minutes past midnight, it did make him raise a blond eyebrow.

He unlocked the door and opened it wide, seeing his fiancè -or rather former fiancè- standing in the hallway, hands on her hips. Her face was scrunched in concentration, as if lining up a good shot with her rifle.

Donning her typical cargo pants, military grade boots, leather jacket, and a loaded pistol tucked into a holster at her side; she made a very imposing figure to those who didn't know her well. She struck people as someone who would shoot first and ask questions later. Which wasn't wrong.

But Fred saw past her tough-guy facade. He always had. Beyond that brash exterior was just a young woman, scared to death at how the world had fallen to ruin, terrified of being truely alone, her heart forever broken because of his earlier demise.

Licking her lips, Daphne asked, "Can you really smell me?"

A slight smile touched his undead mouth, "Yes."

She clucked her tongue in annoyance, as Fred held his door open, silently inviting her inside.

He noticed that she squeezed her body as tight as she could, not wanting to touch him even the smallest amount. Her denial ran deep.

She moved to stand across the room, not taking her eyes off of Fred's muscular frame. Whether it was from attraction or distrust he couldn't say. Her gaze sometimes wandered lower to his death wound seared across his abdomen, the dried blood staining his white jacket.

The silence between them was tense, so taut that if it snapped, the noise would be audible.

Surprisingly, Daphne spoke first, her tone sounding much more convincing than her body language, "I don't believe you really are Fred Jones. He was never as forward as you. If so, I would have married him years ago when he first proposed to me in college."

He didn't deny her observation, "When I was alive, I followed you like a lost puppy. Despite you never returning my affections, I always held out hope that you would throw me a tiny scrap of love."

At his honest words, her eyes took on a glassy sheen of unshed tears. Fred took several steps closer, treating Daphne like a frightened animal that might run away, caging her in. "But in death, I took Velma's advice to heart, I finally grew a backbone. I'd rather jump across the table to get that scrap, than wait for you to realize I'm still the Fred you love."

She didn't argue his point, changing the topic instead. "I'm so ugly now," she stated, absently trailing her fingers over her new facial wounds. They were bound to leave a decent scar once healed.

Fred knew that her words held double meaning, she wasnt just talking about her vanity.

"I'm so ugly now," she repeated, "On the inside too. I've killed so many, Fred. So many people."

She closed her eyes, as a few tears managed to escape from under her eyelids, "Sure, they were mutated monsters…but I deliberately hunted them down. I enjoyed emptying whole clips of ammunition into them."

Fred said nothing, just listened, enjoying the moment for what it was.

She turned away fron him and stared at the floor, "In the evenings, I wouldn't come home until I was covered head to toe in monster blood. Washing it off at night made me feel like I'd accomplished something worthwhile. It was like scratching an itch, but it never seemed good enough."

Daphne crossed her arms in front of her chest, before continuing, "Everyone's afraid of me here, everyone except you. I hear them talking. They call me crazy, homicidal, maniac, unbalanced…they trust me about as much as they'd trust Hannibal Lecter."

Fred finally broke his silence, "We've all changed, Daph. We wouldn't have survived this long if we hadn't. The nanite apocalypse has scarred us all."

Daphne kept her eyes on her feet, her gaze fixated. As if she was afraid of his answer, she asked him bluntly, "Do you still want me, Freddie? Knowing I'm like this?"

He moved behind her, placing his hands on her waist and turning her around roughly to face him. His fingers curled deftly into her soft red locks, twisting it tightly, pulling just enough to bend her head back and bare her neck to him. Daphne didn't make a peep, but Fred could hear the increase of her pulse.

"Oh yes," he purred, "I want you exactly like this."

He flashed her his teeth, which had grown noticeably sharper since his death, another nanite mutation. The sight of his fang-like canines should have struck fear into her heart, but lust bloomed instead.

Fred gently nipped her throat, scraping lightly across her smooth, pliant skin. Daphne knew she should shove him away. He could easily tear her jugular open, let her bleed out on the floor. But her urge to flee was not nearly as strong as the want that had been brewing for days, the heat pooling in her belly and below.

Her eyes closed as his lips grazed her neck, alternating between sharp bites and light suckles. She was barely aware that his free hand had unbuttoned her shirt beneath her jacket, and was sliding both garments off. Somehow he had already removed her gun and set it on the nearby table.

Fred renewed his grip on her hair, giving her a delightful burn at the scalp. This time his cold mouth claimed hers, roughly; their kiss involving more teeth and tongue, than lips.

All is fair in love and war, and Daphne supposed that sex with this new Fred was much the same.

He pulled back from her lips and dropped to his knees, running his fingers around the band of her pants. Kneeling before her and kissing her toned stomach, he popped the buttons easily, tugging them off, underwear and boots included.

Daphne suddenly felt shy, being completely naked in front of him. Before the monster plague destroyed mankind, she had felt gorgeous, beautiful, with a healthy ego to match. Suitors flung themselves at her feet regularly back then.

But now…scars peppered her lithe body, little and big, pink and flesh colored, some smooth and some dented inwards...so ugly.

She brought her arms up from Fred's shoulders to bashfully cover her breasts, but he yanked them away, shielding her flesh with his own hands.

If he was disgusted by her, she couldn't tell, she could only see his reverence.

Her breathing hitched as Fred rubbed his nose into her soft curls, snaking his tongue out to taste her again. When her legs grew weak and shaky, he stopped his dutiful work and pulled himself up to his full height.

She had forgotten how much taller he was, and for a brief flash she regretted coming to his room, giving him his power over her.


	3. Chapter 3

In spite of Fred's earlier roughness, he came to her gently, cupping her chin and pulling her mouth to his. His tongue pushed it's way inside, while her arms snaked around his neck.

He tugged his shirt over his head and Daphne's breath caught in her throat. Judging by the large dried blood stain, she had expected to see an open wound covering his abdomen, skin that was ragged and torn, even organs poking through. Instead, his flesh was even and smooth, only cold to the touch. A scar was barely visible where the green monster had essentially ripped his guts out.

One hand trailed down his toned chest, softly tracing over the faded mark. She enjoyed his slight tremor at her fingertips. Fred placed his hand over hers, following her gaze, "I told you the nanites healed me. Were you expecting to see gore? Like a George Romero movie?"

"I dont know what I was expecting," she whispered.

He took her lips again, occasionally catching her bottom lip with his teeth. "Don't put too much thought into it, Daph."

When she heard the sound of his zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle, she deeped the kiss, sliding her leg up and around his.

With his length freed, she could feel it growing harder between their two bodies. Daphne had thought that she wanted Fred earlier, desired him; but now, she was positively burning.

"I need you," she hushed over his mouth.

"You always have."

His hands roamed over her back and hips, reaching around to grasp her thighs, pulling her upwards. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, depending on his nanite-given strength to hold them both upright. He carried her this way, laying her reverently on the bed, while leaning his knees on the mattress to line himself up with her body.

Fred met no resistance as he slid his hardness inside, further demonstrating how much she really did need him. Daphne hissed at his size, but as he moved against her, the pain she felt quickly blooming into pleasure with each thrust.

She moaned, letting her eyes drift closed. It made it easier when she didn't have to look at his face. A reminder of what this Fred really was. He may look human-like, but he was still no more than a nanite monster. What then, did that make her? At least this way she could pretend he was someone else…

But apparently Fred didn't like her loss of focus, as he completely halted his actions. Her eyes popped open and she whined, "Why'd you stop?"

Fred smiled, "I dont want you drifting away. I want you here. Looking at me." He pumped into her twice to emphasize his point, "I want you to _acknowledge_ who's fucking you."

He moved faster, making her pant. She learned her lesson, keeping her eyes open and locked on his red ones this time.

His large hand reached underneath her to tilt her hips up at an angle, suddenly making his penetration much more intense.

Pausing a moment, he swiped his blond hair from his eyes, "We go together so well, Daph. This bond we share? We belong together."

Daphne scoffed and rolled her hips to make him stop talking and move again.

Fred chuckled at her frustration, "I'm serious. I've always thought so. Even when we did this in college, I just knew...that you loved me. You still do."

She squeezed him from the inside, "Wrong. I love Fred Jones. But you're not him. So, I guess I have to _settle_."

His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. For a second his angry glare struck her with a shiver of fear, goosebumps cropping up on her bare arms and legs. She wondered briefly if he was going to hit her. _Never forget what he really is._

Instead, he leaned down to take her lips, moving his tongue against hers leisurely. Fred laid his body as close to hers as he could possibly be, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Ok, _Miss _Blake. Have it your way then. Let's say I am just a-," he tilted his head, thinking of her words from a few days ago, "just a nanite Pinocchio. Playing at being a real boy. Then what does that make _you_?"

He moved inside her at an agonizonly slow pace now, pulling all the way out before sliding back in. Fred seemed totally unfazed by this method, while she writhed beneath him, desperate for him to pick up speed.

Daphne shot daggers with her eyes, raking her nails down his shoulders as his thrusts suddenly became much harder, sharper. If he wasn't nanite infused, her scrapes would have left welts or blood in their wake. Unfortunately, his undead skin looked no different from before and his face showed no hint of pain. _Bastard_.

Fred's voice was like silk, although what he said angered her, "Don't worry your pretty little head, Daphne. I'm just a mindless beast, like those abominations outside. You, on the other hand, must be more of a monster than me. On your own free will you came to my room for _this_."

She squeezed her eyes shut tight against his truths. Daphne felt a spark down low and knew she wouldn't last much longer. The pleasure was brewing over, threatening to explode, her moans escalating to a desperate plea.

Fred could hear loud-mouthed Shaggy talking in the hallway with Scooby and some other survivors. He slapped his hand over her mouth, muting her cries. The last thing he needed was them barging into the room thinking he was actually hurting her.

"Hear that, Daph? The gang's right out there. Imagine what they'd think if they burst in here and saw you under me, naked and moaning."

Of course, the question was rhetorical, his hand still clamped over her mouth. She groaned against his palm in response.

He reached down to where they joined intimately and rubbed her sensitive bud there. Fred watched, entraced, as she came. Her body tightened all around him, her back arching off the mattress, and her eyes rolling up.

Fred waited until the voices of Shaggy and the others had faded, before freeing her mouth. Daphne was breathing deeply, her body limp and weak.

Without offering words of comfort, Fred flipped her over onto her knees, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head down, entering her again roughly.

Up until this point, he hadn't voiced his pleasure, but now, he gave a low groan from deep in his throat. Fred trailed his fingers down her back, taking in the soft curves while pounding into her. He could still feel the aftershocks from her first orgasm rippling across his member.

Daphne crooned into the blanket, her hands balling the sheets. Everything he was doing to her felt so damn _good_.

Just when Daphne felt she couldn't handle this intensity anymore, Fred finally growled his release, followed by a familiar pulsation and a warm rush inside.

The sensory of it all was too much to bear, and she found herself releasing a second time, her inner muscles clenching him hard.

She collapsed onto the mattress, completely spent. Fred accompanied her, lying on his side. She rolled her eyes at him and turned over. No way she was going to look at his smug grin.

He laughed at her defiance and pulled her close to him anyway. His hand stretched out to grasp hers, lacing their fingers together. Daphne surprised him, however, and pulled their clasped hands to her chest.

Fred kissed her shoulder and nuzzled his face into her frazled hair, "I love you."

He couldn't tell exactly what she said, her hair muffling the sound somewhat, but he thought he heard, "I love you too, Freddie."


	4. Chapter 4

Daphne woke up gradually, feeling oddly refreshed; a rare treat after the apocalypse. She was used to being jarred awake by terrified screams and monsters clawing their way inside buildings.

The first thing she saw was Fred's glowing red eyes, staring intently into her own. She frowned, "Were you watching me?"

"Yes."

"Knock if off. It's creepy. Don't you ever sleep?"

"No. I'm not technically alive, Daph. I don't need sleep."

"Well, find something else to do."

She immediately regretted saying that, as Fred began walking his fingers up her taut stomach, coming to rest his palm over her breast.

Daphne sighed, "Stop it."

He smiled, flashing those dangerous teeth, "You didn't seem to mind when I did this last night."

"I'm sore," she snarled.

He rolled the nipple between his thumb and index finger, making her groan.

Fred bent his head to hers, his lips lightly grazing over her mouth, "You didn't mind the few times afterwards either."

"Enough," she bellowed, shoving him back. "We have places to be anyway. Velma wanted us in the lab this morning, working on that vaccine her brothers developed."

He chuckled as he rolled off the bed, reaching for his jeans, "I guess we're back to this ol' song and dance, acting as if you don't love me. Sometimes, I wonder why I bother."

Daphne grabbed her shirt from the floor, "It's not an act! Go find a zombie bride if that's what you want."

When he didn't respond, she bent down to grab her boots. Proud that her little jibe had hit home, she wasn't expecting his hand to snatch the back collar of her shirt and slam her effortlessly into the wall.

Fear, pain, lust, and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Such a confusing cacophony of emotions brewed inside. Daphne was panting as he leaned into her ear, "What a good idea, darling. It's so difficult to find another sentinent nanite corpse like myself. I might have to _make_ one."

She didn't want to show how scared she really was, but the hard gulp at his words gave her away. Her eyes flickered between his face, no longer harboring the loving glances from earlier, and her handgun lying on the table.

They stared each other down, neither one willing to break the silence. Fortunately the tension was shattered by a loud knock at Fred's door. He released her and went to answer it.

Fred was surprised to see a lanky teenager, no older than eighteen. The boy cleared his throat, obviously frightened at the sight of the fabled undead Fred, "Uhhh…Dr. Dinkley sent me….umm…to get you."

Fred smiled politely, but with his sharp teeth it looked more threatening, then friendly, "Tell Velma we're on our way."

Before the boy turned to go, he squeaked, "If you see your girlfriend…uhhh…the one with the red hair…can you…ummm…ask her to come too?"

Fred opened the door wider to reveal Daphne beside him, her face flushed with embarrassment. "He's not my boyfriend," she spat.

Somehow, Fred's smirk became wider, "Daphne's right, actually. She's not my girlfriend, she's my fiancè. Accepted my proposal right before I died."

He could feel Daphne seething beside him, rage emminating off her in waves.

The messenger could feel the tension and took several paces back, arms raised in surrender, "Uhhh….whatever. Just don't eat me."

Fred chuckled, while Daphne aggressively shoved past him, "I can't _deal_ with your bullshit today."

XXXXXX

"Stop following me," Daphne hissed.

"I'm not," Fred pleaded, "there's literally only one way into Velma's lab."

Daphne rolled her eyes, as she pulled open the heavy bullet-proof door, "Likely excuse."

Almost immediately, Velma wasted no time putting them both to work. After several hours of being her dutiful budding scientists, Velma handed Daphne a vial, tubing, and a sterile syringe. She adjusted her glasses, "I need a sample of Fred's nanite blood, if he has any."

Daphne scoffed, "And you think I can do that? I'm a reporter, not a phlebotomist. You're the one with twenty Ph.D.'s."

"It's actually sixteen doctorates, not twenty. But...to be fair, you can't run the tests I'm doing. Collecting Fred's DNA is far beneath my paygrade."

"We're not being paid," Daphne snapped.

Velma exhaled deeply, her voice taking on the tone of an adult speaking to a small naive child, "Listen, I have so much on my plate right now, getting blood isn't a top priority, but I still need it. Please? The nanites have made his veins vibrant and easy to locate. Just…stab it in there, pull the syringe, easy peasy."

She turned back to her computer and tuned out the world again before Daphne could retort.

XXXXXX

Daphne found Fred laying on an examination table, hands behind his head, jiggling his foot to a song that the survivors were playing over the intercom. For a moment, he looked…normal.

_But he's not, _she told herself_. Dont ever forget what he is._

He didn't look up or acknowledge her presence, only took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose, probably smelling the air, "I was wondering when Velma would send you after a tissue sample. I told her she can disect me if she needs to, it won't hurt me."

Daphne tossed him the blood sample kit, hitting him square in the chest, while she reached to grab a pair of rubber gloves from a box on the wall, "Well, when you say things like that, Fred, it freaks people out."

Fred grinned, "But not you?"

She pulled on the gloves, letting the latex snap at her wrists, "No, not me. I'm somehow able to _tolerate_ you."

_Velma was right_, Daphne mused, as Fred held out his arm. His veins were very easy to find, an ugly mix of red and grey, clearly visible, snaking through his greyish skin.

_Ick_.

She held the needle close to his skin, trying to decide where best to insert, when his taunting voice grated her nerves, "It's a shame that Velma needs blood. We could've collected another form of DNA earlier."

Daphne gritted her teeth, while she shoved the needle harshly into his forearm. Luckily, she struck gold, as dark liquid filled the vial.

Fred looked down in amazement, not able to feel any pain or discomfort from Daphne's petty needle stabbing, "Wow, I'm surprised I still have blood."

She removed the needle, swishing the vial's contents, "Its seems darker than usual blood, but hopefully it's enough for Velma. If she needs more, she'll have to get it herself."

Daphne tore off the rubber gloves, tossing them in the trash can. She reached for the door knob when Fred's large hand grabbed her bicep, and spun her forcibly to face him.

His tender expression nearly broke her heart. He so closely resembled the Fred Jones she knew that it made her knees weak.

Fred tugged her closer to his body, his fingers gliding down from her arm to rest at her waist, "I love-"

"Don't say it," she said, holding up her hand to stop him, "I don't want to hear it."


	5. Chapter 5

Fred let go of her body, taking a step backwards, "Just to clarify, I came back from the grave for you."

Daphne looked down at her boots, not wanting him to see the tears welling up. "I can't be around you much longer, it's killing me," her voice was cracking, "what do you want from me?"

Fred didn't answer and Daphne glared, fueled by a deep inner pain. Her tone was harsh, "What, exactly, did you expect to happen from sleeping with me?

Her arms flailed as she gestured with her hands, "Did you honestly think we'd ride off into the sunset together? I'd go on pretending that you're a normal human being that doesn't eat people?"

Fred opened his mouth, about to reply when Quentin's booming voice announced over the intercom that today's entertainment would be a romance comedy film, to be shown in the theater next to the laboratory.

Fred chuckled darkly, breaking the serious tension between him and his former fiancè. "Civilization as we know it ends, and yet people will still find the time to catch a movie."

Daphne graced him with a smirk, "Quentin mentioned that the survivors here watch films twice a week to decompress, improve morale. They usually pick funny ones."

Soon after, they heard the shuffling of feet entering the theater, the walls muffled the sounds of a movie starting on the other side, but it was still clearly audible.

Unable to bear his stare any longer, Daphne took the initiative and closed the gap between them, bringing her hand up to stroke his face, "After you died, I wished everyday that I could turn back time, and accept your first proposal years ago. So many years I've wasted…"

The movie's volume seemed louder when they were silent. Fred could hear the narrorator talking about upcoming wedding nuptials. He leaned in to gently take her lips while the on screen groom began to say his vows.

_"I, take thee_…"

The spark between her and Fred exploded into a passionate frenzy. Their simple kiss not quenching their burning drive for each other, only fanning the flames. He grabbed her mercilessly by her buttocks, lifting her up to the examination table, his tongue pushing past her lips.

_"…to be my lawfully wedded wife_…"

Daphne's hands moved to his belt buckle and zipper, freeing him. He was already at full mast and needed no further enticement. Fred bit her bottom lip, while his palm pressed down into the crotch of her pants, the delightful pressure making her moan.

_"…to have and to hold…_

Daphne's fingers flicked at the buttons of her own shirt, but Fred quickly grew impatient, tearing her shirt the rest of the way open. Distantly, she heard the soft tink-tink of loose buttons hitting the floor. Goosebumps didn't have time to form, as Fred's hands were caressing any exposed flesh.

_"…from this day forward…_"

His sharp teeth raked over Daphne's neck, his lips finding purchase and sucking hard. He was growing weary of her denial game, and this time he intended to leave a few marks. It had the desired effect, as Fred noticed with his inhuman nose that the scent of her arousal had filled the room. Truly intoxicating.

"_…for better, for worse…"_

He shrugged off his shirt and Daphne brought her mouth to his chest, on top of his newest scar; her own inflicted knife wound from a few days back. Fred's growl was felt as a rumble through his torso, rather than heard. When her tongue brushed along the scar's jagged egde, he closed his eyes, running his fingers through red hair to pull her head closer.

_".. for richer, for poorer…_"

Fred tugged off her pants, pulling a boot off in the process. Daphne claimed his lips, her arms sliding around his neck, while his fingers roved over her clit. She gasped, as if burned by some invisible heat when he inserted two digits into her wetness.

_"…in sickness and in health…"_

She grinded against him, desperate to feel him more, to feel him deeper, harder. But it just wasn't enough. "I need this," she whispered.

Fred's voice was raspy, "Give me what I want, and I'll do it."

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to think, but most of her brain was in a sex-induced haze and nothing else seemed important.

"_…to love and to cherish…_"

Her mind couldn't grasp what he wanted. To say please? To beg him to fuck her? Daphne opened her eyes to see his red ones, boring into hers, silently pleading. In that very moment the stars aligned in her mind's eye, and she knew exactly what Fred desired. "I love you," she said through gritted teeth, "I love you, dammit!"

_"…till death do us part…"_

Fred gripped her hips and yanked her pelvis to the edge of the examination table, lining up their bodies. He entered her while holding her eyes and she shivered under his gaze. His cold fingers were digging into her skin, his hardness stretching her deliciously inside, and just when she thought she couldn't handle all of these sensations at once, he started to move.

_"…according to God's holy ordinance…"_

He had been chatty during sex earlier, but this time Fred was quiet, the only sounds he was making were grunts of exertion. Daphne dug her nails into his shoulders, hanging on for dear life, not even noticing the angry red crescent marks she was leaving on his skin. Neither one heard the exam room door open and quickly close, so lost in their own universe were they.

_"…and thereto I pledge thee my faith_…"

He pounded into her hard, as Daphne hissed against his cheek, feeling pain mixed with her pleasure. She pulled Fred closer, her legs drawing him deeper. His lips covered hers, roughly exploring her mouth with his tongue.

_"…pledge myself to you."_

Fred could feel her inner muscles throb against his cock, she was so close, just skirting the edge.

"Give me your heart, Daphne," he snarled, baring his fangs, "Don't you dare hold it back from me."

His demanding voice was all she needed. With a loud cry, she fell forward against him, slipping into ecstasy and sinking her teeth into the skin of his shoulder. Fred continued pumping into her limp body, roaring his release.

When their breathing had calmed, he laid his damp forehead to hers, kissing her with a tenderness that only love could convey.

XXXXXX

Shaggy caught Velma by the arm, lovingly pulling her against his side, "So, will you be able to make a cure from Fred's blood?"

She smiled faintly, adjusting her glasses, "I'm not sure, I haven't been able to get the sample yet."

He stroked his gotee pensively, "Didn't you send Daphne in there an hour ago? She should've gotten it by now..."

"Well," Velma made some notes on her clipboard, "they were…intimate. And I didn't feel it was my place to interrupt."

Shaggy's eyes widened at her implied wording. "What?! But isn't the Fredster…like….dead? Or deadish?"

"Eh," she shrugged her shoulders, "Since Fred died, Daphne has been on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. I've been worrying lately that she might take her own life."

Velma scribbled out a complicated equation, not meeting Shaggy's eyes, "And Fred is a flesh-eating mutated corpse, who, I might add, has not devoured any of us since rejoining the gang. I figured, if they are taking out their crazy urges on each other, then we are all probably better off."

Shaggy leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, a squeamish look on his face, "I guess so, but it doesn't make it any less gross."


	6. Chapter 6

"Fred's right," Velma sighed, "those nanites are literally the only reason he's walking around right now."

Daphne leaned in close to get a good look at the slides. "And?"

Velma adjusted the microscope, examining her deceased friend's blood sample. "His cells aren't decaying, more like, suspended. Held together only by the nanite plague."

Shaggy spoke up from a nearby office chair. "So, is there anyway we can reverse this? Like on a worldwide scale?"

Velma pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose. "I think it's…possible. But it's all unpredictable at this point. I'm hoping we can recode Fred's nanites and infect the Nanite King for a start."

Daphne glanced up from the microscope, "What about the rest of the planet? Everyone else that was mutated? Will they return to normal?"

Velma shrugged her shoulders, "In a best case scenario, yes. They will. At the worst case…the Nanite King wins and we all die. A complete extinction of the human race."

A frown softened Daphne's features, "That's painfully pessimistic."

Velma put one comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, "But it's the truth. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is."

After a brief pause, Velma grasped Daphne's hand, "There's also something else that we need to talk about. Probably the biggest component of pulling off this grand scheme. And I need you to understand this with an open heart…"

XXXXXX

Daphne stripped off her clothes and collapsed onto the bed, pulling her arm up to cover her eyes. Right now, she just wanted to pretend that the world hadn't gone to hell and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

It was all becoming too much.

_Fred breathing his last only an hour after she agreed to be his wife. His unmoving bloody corpse growing cold, his hand going limp in hers._

_Months of tears, unending grief, and desiring nothing more than to join him in oblivion. Praying that heaven existed, and that her beloved Fred would be at the gates waiting for her._

_Fred miraculously returning to the land of the living, trying to convince her he hasn't changed, only his perspective._

_His undead mouth lingering on her lips, her throat, her breasts. Sounds of passion and pleasure coming from them both. Two bodies rutting furiously together._

_And now...Velma's newly reconstructed virus, riding on the coattails of Fred's unique nanites. Her newest creation that could save the planet an_d _reverse the apocalypse...or doom it further_.

What a crazy world this is.

The sound of her door opening and closing brought Daphne back to reality. She didn't move, knowing exactly who it was.

She didn't acknowldge him, or even remove her arm from her face. Daphne heard Fred's footsteps come quietly to the edge of the bed and stop in front of her sprawled out form.

She could feel his eyes raking over her mostly naked body as if it were his fingers.

His voice was as calm as ever, "I just spoke to Velma."

"She explained things?"

"Yes."

Daphne sighed from under her arm, "And she told you what needs to be done? About what only _you_ can do to stop the Nanite King?"

"Yes."

A few beats of silence, her eyes still covered.

She opened her mouth to question his motives further when she felt his lips kiss the top of her foot gently.

She said nothing as he moved higher, placing another kiss above her ankle. His words were felt against her skin, "Velma will use my nanites to harbor a new virus that will hopefully infect the Nanite King, killing him. Or weakening him greatly."

His sinful mouth moved upwards, kissing her shin. Daphne sighed at the contact, while Fred continued talking, "Unfortunately, Velma told me that containing this new virus in my body and transferring it to the Nanite King will, in all probability, kill me too. And I mean, I'll really die. I won't come back this time."

Daphne nodded her understanding silently, as Fred kissed her knee.

He nipped her inner thigh lovingly, "I'd essentially be a sacrifice, for the greater good of humanity. And we don't even know if it'll work. I could die for nothing."

He went higher, burying his tongue inside her soft curls, licking her center.

After a few moments of panting, Daphne raked her fingers through his blonde hair, pulling Fred's head up. They locked eyes for the first time since he came into the room, her voice a breathy whisper. "It doesn't matter what I want, Fred. It's the right thing to do."

He chanced one naughty lick while she watched him, enjoying her eyes fluttering closed at the pleasure and his voice, "You could barely keep sane when you believed me dead these past six months, Daph. Could you manage a lifetime without me?"

"What other choice do we have?"

He continued his journey up her body, laying kisses over her navel and taut stomach before speaking again, "I can control small groups of those monsters, Daph. It'll be enough to keep us safe. We could leave the gang, find a farm somewhere, maybe raise some cattle. Make a new start. Just the two of us."

Daphne's eyes widened a moment, deeply considering his offer, before shaking her head in the negative, "And abandon everyone else to die? It would haunt me forever, knowing we could have done something. Anything."

Fred's teasing lips reached the valley of her breasts, kissing between the fleshy mounds before taking each nipple in his mouth, one after the other. "Tell me what you want me to do, Daphne. I'll lay down my life, if thats what you want."

His mouth worked her neck, dropping less kisses now and more soft bites.

When Daphne didn't respond, he sucked her neck hard, making sure it would leave a bruise. She answered with a sharp gasp, indicating pain, "Don't pin this decision on me, dammit! Of course I want to save the planet, but, I just got you back. How am I supposed to go through losing you all over again!"

His lips covered hers in a passionate kiss, silencing her outcry. Fred reached between them to release himself from his jeans, entering her slickness easily. Daphne cupped his face, bringing it down to meet her mouth again as he began to move inside her.

Daphne moaned as Fred's words were hushed against her cheek, "Think about it carefully. The Nanite King comes tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

Daphne sat on her private secure balcony, overlooking the wasteland. She could lie to Velma and Shaggy, but she had to be truthful to herself.

Fred's offer to run away and start a new life together was enticing. The very idea drew her in like a cloud of gnats at a family barbeque. A lifetime of just them, happy, and together. A forever after that they both had been denied, but they so desperately wanted.

But so was Fred's proposition to lay down his life…or unlife…for the survival of mankind. It would be the ultimate do-over, a chance to overcome the nanite plague and rebuild society. A much kinder version this time around. Hopefully, one free of racism, sexism, violence, poverty, and war. A fresh start that would make the biblical Noah jealous.

Ultimately, Fred had given her a gift - or a curse - of making the final decision. The next step, or misstep of the human race was placed into her simple mammalian mind.

What to do?

So many variables. Velma had not guaranteed victory. This could blow up in everyone's face. What if it made the mutants already roaming the earth stronger, faster, and smarter than they already were? What if the new virus killed everyone on contact, not sparing humans or the nanite beasts outside?

Geez.

Life had never been so complicated, even when she was fired from her position as an investigative reporter at The Washington Post for doing her damn job.

She plucked out a handrolled cigarette from her breast pocket, holding it between her lips, and using a flip-lighter to ignite the tip. She pulled on the cig deeply, spreading the flame, inhaling the nicotine, and welcoming it's calming effects into her system.

It was very early morning. The sun hadn't greeted the day yet, and the balcony was dark. The only light being the bright red end of her cig.

So lost in thought was she, that Daphne didn't hear the sliding glass door open, or Fred moving to stand directly behind her.

"When did you start smoking?"

His unexpected voice made the hair on her neck stand up, "A few weeks after you died. I drank every drop of alcohol within a five mile radius of the Henry Hudson Mall. When that didn't help, I turned to tobacco. And when the cigarettes weren't enough I took up-"

"Killing monsters," Fred interrupted.

Daphne nodded silently.

His grey fingers snatched the lit cig from between her lips, tossing it over the balcony railing. She made no move to catch it, watching the tiny red light fall several stories down to land in a mud puddle, extinguishing itself.

"It's a nasty habit, Daph. I saw my aunt Grace go from lung cancer."

Daphne rubbed at the scabs across her face, they were starting to itch. "Bold of you to assume that I'll live long enough to die of cancer. If I live to see my late thirties, I'll consider that a miracle."

Fred laughed, and in his undead state it was so chilling it made Daphne's bones rattle, "The woman who has survived the nanite apocalypse, who single handedly killed hundreds of these mutated freaks, and who is now sleeping with her formerly deceased fiancè is doubtful that miracles can happen? You've always been a cynic. You're just like your-"

"What do you want from me, Fred?" She broke in, her tone terse. "You never did finish telling me what you wanted from all this. A relationship? A good lay? What's in it for you?"

Fred's arms came around her waist and he pulled her back hard against his body. He nudged away the hair at her neck, replacing it's warmth with his cold lips.

"When the nanites chose me to be their avatar, taking over my corpse, rousing me from the oblivion of death...they asked me the same question. What boon did I want in return for hosting these inhuman masters?"

His hands roamed over her stomach, before gliding up to her chest. He could hear the increase of her heartbeat at his intimate movements. Her hands shot out to grasp the balcony rail. Fred felt a tingling urge to bite down onto the soft flesh of her throat, before pushing the thought away.

"I told them, I just want you. For however long. A minute? A day? A week? Months? Years? I wasn't picky. And I'm still not." Fred's voice was slick with desire, "We've been given this gift of time. And I appreciate every second I've gotten to spend it with you."

Fred tugged her back away from the railing, turning her around to face him. Daphne had grown accustomed to his bright red eyes; they didn't strike her with fear anymore. They gazed at her only with love. With her cigarette gone, his eyes were now the brightest things on the balcony.

Her resurrected lover sat down in a cheap lawn chair, pulling her down into his lap, straddling him. His hands slipped underneath her shirt to message the pillowy flesh.

She knew they shouldn't be doing this here. Not on the balcony where anyone could hear or see. Velma had mentioned that she didn't care about the nature of her and Fred's relationship, but they need to be discreet. His very presence creeped everyone out at the compound.

Daphne's eyes fluttered closed as his mouth moved to her neck, leaving a trail of love bites. She briefly wondered if Fred's touch was as addictive as the nicotine when she made no move to stop him. Was it also as deadly and toxic?

Sensing her deep internal thoughts, Fred pulled his head up, his gleaming red eyes boring into her greens. "Have you decided what we're going to do about all this?"

She laid her forehead lovingly to his, "Yes."

Daphne trailed her fingers down his chest, lazily scraping against the bulge in his jeans, and teasing his belt buckle loose.

Fred glanced around the balcony. No one was outside, and most of the survivors were still asleep. For a moment, they were in their own universe.

Thoughts of the Nanite King and keeping Daphne safe should have been at the forefront of Fred's mind, except it wasn't. Not even close. The only focus of his brain was of his red-headed soulmate panting for him to go faster, deeper. Her hungry mouth demanding his lips, his hands pulling her closer, kneading the flesh of her breasts, her hips, her buttocks. Daphne's soft thighs rolling against his own, desperate with need, begging for release. Both losing themselves, grasping on to the other as an anchor in this cruel and unforgiving world that Velma's plague had unleashed.

While two lovers clung to their intimacy, miles away, the Nanite King's army churned.


	8. Chapter 8

Daphne waited patiently in line with the other survivors to recieve her allotted breakfast ration; soggy eggs, oatmeal mush, weak coffee, and chewy turkey bacon. Of course, all of this lacking butter and sugar. Condiments and good taste were a luxury in this new world.

Before the nanites took over, this food assortment would be on parr with a standard prison inmate's tray. She would have rather died then eat this garbage. Glancing down at her meal now, her belly rumbled.

_Oh my, how the times have changed._

After dealing with near constant supply shortages with the gang and then at the Henry Hudson Mall, she now considered all food to be scrumptious, so long as it kept the hunger pains away. She distinctly remembered a particularly rough time when Fred was still alive, and all they could scavage was four cans of tuna. Her and Fred were supposed to share it together, but that idiot refused to take one bite. Saved it all for her.

What a sweet, lovable sap.

She looked up to the far corner, where conveniently everyone seemed to avoiding. Fred sat on a bench near the door, just people watching. Although, when you're a zombie "people watching" may not have the same definition. She could understand why the survivors were uncomfortable. Fred's glowing red eyes, grey skin, and blood-stained clothes had scared her too, at first.

Daphne spotted a table with a few familiar faces, as well as an open seat and moved to claim it. She set her tray down and smiled, "Hey guys. Good morning."

Instead of returning her friendly greeting, her comrades huffed and scoffed, while a tall man named Butch rolled his eyes. They gathered their food and utensils with as much noise as possible, making it a point not to converse.

Daphne looked around the cafeteria and noticed that several people were intentionally avoiding her eye contact, whispering with their heads together, and moving closer so Daphne couldn't take a spot next to them. She distinctly heard a woman say "That's the crazy chick that's fucking a zombie" and "Who's side is she on anyway?"

Daphne closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Why did loving this new Fred have to come at such a steep price? Ostracisized by the living or torn to bits by the nanite freaks. Where did she fit in anymore?

Picking up her tray, she joined Fred on his lonely bench. When she sat down, Fred's hand slipped into hers, lacing their fingers together. Daphne squeezed lightly, and he squeezed in return.

The corners of his lips lifted up into a creepy smile, one that had actually been quite charming when he was still alive, "They don't deserve our sacrifices, do they?"

Daphne's face was serious, "They've seen monsters tear their loved ones to shreds. Monsters just like you. It's a hard thing to reconcile. The world now isn't black and white anymore. It's all very grey."

Fred brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. She allowed herself to smirk at him, the knot in her heart slowly dissipating until an older women seated nearby grimaced in disgust at Fred's display of affection. Embarrassed, Daphne yanked her hand out of his grasp.

XXXXXX

"Daphne, you can't do this," Velma begged, following the hot-tempered redhead around the supply room. "You'll be dooming us all!"

Ignoring her best friend's pleas, Daphne kept grabbing canned goods, medicene, and ammo from the shelves, stuffing them into a duffle bag strapped to her shoulder.

Velma smacked the bottle of antibiotics out of Daphne's hands and they tumbled noisily to the ground. "Not to mention, you're raiding our rations that we're already low on."

Daphne bent over, grabbing up the pill bottle, "You mean _these_ supplies, that I collected _myself_, fighting my way through monster hordes while you sat in a cushy office ordering me around?"

Velma's eyes were swimming with tears as Daphne tossed the loaded duffle into the back of a jeep. "Without Fred, without you, none of us stand a chance against the Nanite King. He'll come after you two eventually."

"Good, let him come then," she hissed.

When Velma remained silent, Daphne crossed her arms, "Why does it always come down to me? I have no responsibility in any of this. No duty to honor. _You're_ the one who created the nanite plague and released it into the atmosphere."

She continued her rant, jabbing her index finger into Velma's chest, "If you're feeling self-rightous about it, then _you_ should be the one to sacrifice something for a change. How about Shaggy's life? Or your baby's?"

Velma covered her mouth with her hand, and her growing stomach with the other, "That's not fair."

Daphne yanked open the driver's side door of the jeep, climbing in behind the wheel, "Actually, I think it's pretty damn fair. Even Steven. What have you lost, exactly, besides your fancy title as head of a secret government laboratory installation?"

Velma's cheeks were wet from tears freely falling, "I've lost everything! My friends, my family, my co-workers, my students! For the rest of my life, I will carry the blame, knowing that I caused the collapse of civilization. Knowing that I am directly responsible for the deaths of millions. Is my guilt not enough?"

Daphne's glare was cold, "No. Not even close."

Velma looked beyond Daphne, towards the undead man sitting quietly in the passenger seat. "What about you, Fred? Is there any compassion left in that rotting brain of yours?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Fred smiled sadly, "The only person I have any true compassion for is Daphne. And if she says we're going, then we're going."

Velma latched on to her friend's wrist tightly, "Do you think I'd just let you two leave without putting up a fight?"

Daphne raised her fist and Velma flinched, "Go ahead and give me a reason to punch your smug little face in, Dinkley. Now put in the security code and open the garage door."

Velma exhaled deeply, sagging in defeat. There was no winning now. No victories for anybody anymore once the Nanite King arrived. She pushed several buttons on a key pad mounted to the wall. The garage door rolled open and Daphne started the jeep, tearing off into the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

The wind rolled across neglected farmland, gently rocking the porch swing Daphne was sitting on. She watched a small group of monsters in the distance, their clothes tattered and filthy. They had their noses, or what was left of their noses, to the air, picking up her tasty human scent. Moving her hand to her pistol in her side holster, she clicked back the hammer, readying for action.

The mutated group shambled over to the dilapidated wooden fence, hissing and snapping their teeth in her direction, before stopping and looking at each other in confusion. Together, they sniffed the air again before losing all interest and shuffling off into the woods.

Daphne relaxed her hand from the gun, as Fred's voice echoed from around the farmhouse, "Don't worry, Daph. I won't let them hurt you. I told them to move on from here and to stay away."

He came into view, trudging up the porch steps and joining her on the swing. She tried to hide a grimance when she noticed his face, particularly around his mouth, was covered in fresh blood and meaty residue.

_Was it from a human?_

As if reading her mind, he smiled and pulled a rag from his pocket, cleaning his mess, "Relax. It was just a stray cat."

Daphne quirked an eyebrow, and Fred continued, "It's been days since I last ate. I was getting ravenous."

She nodded, understanding that despite how much she loved the man inside, he was still an undead nanite corpse who couldn't just eat a can of Spam when the hunger hit.

_Would he ever eat me?_

Fred placed his hand on top of hers, silencing her thoughts. "I would never hurt you...or anyone else that's still living. You mean more to me than a craving. Plus, you'd be the first to put a bullet in my brain if I ever tried."

Daphne laughed out loud at his bluntness, but didn't deny it, "You're right. I'd also give you a double tap just to prove a point."

They sat in silence, looking out over their new property. She realized then just how much time and work it was going to take to get the fields back under plow and to repair the mile-long fencing.

_Is all this even possible? Did we abandon our friends to die for a pipe dream? Was Velma and Shaggy being torn to bits right now and praying_ _for a rescue that would never come?_

Fred's thumb gently stroked the back of her knuckles and she forced herself to push those negative thoughts aside. She had Fred. And they were both here. Together. They could make this work somehow.

Another gust of wind blew through the untamed wheat field, this time bringing a slight chill to the air. Daphne stood up from the swing, rubbing her arms, "It's getting cold out here, care to come inside and warm me up?"

Fred chuckled, "I don't produce body heat anymore, but I can think of a few ideas that could get your blood pumping."

XXXXXX

She had been so tense on the porch earlier, whatever had been on her mind was weighing heavily. The moment they were inside the house, she had seized his lips, demanding his mouth, her hands working his belt buckle and zipper. Daphne's sudden need for him had been so great that they didn't even make it to the couch.

Fred had tried to reciprocate, wanting to touch her in the intimate ways she had grown to crave, but she kept pushing his hands away, reaching to free his hardness as quick as she could.

They sunk down to the living room rug, with Fred settling his weight between her legs, but she shook her head in the negative. Rolling them both over, Daphne climbed on top instead, and smoothly took his length into her body.

Fred dug his fingers into Daphne's hips, guiding her movements as he thrusted his own pelvis upwards. Although, she didn't really need much help. She was riding him frantically, desperately trying to drive away whatever had been on her mind.

Fiery red hair and firm breasts bounced above him, and Fred had to close his eyes from the mesmerizing scene, lest he finish too quickly. He could do little to drown out the erotic sound of her cries, shattering the silence of the empty house.

Fortunately, Fred soon felt her body tighten around him, her head lulling back, deliciously exposing her neck to him during her climax. He had to fight the sudden urge to sink his teeth into the soft unsuspecting flesh. Shaking his head at the pesky undead craving, he decided he'd rather feel physical bliss instead. He grasped her backside, dragging her down hard, burying himself as deep as possible before bursting inside, welcoming the sweet intoxicating release.

Daphne fell forward, sweaty and panting, her lips ghosting over his as she rolled off to the side, turning her back to him. She remained that way, silent, obviously being avoidant.

Fred trailed his hand down her back, tracing the delicate curves of her spine, being careful not to brush her with the stub of his missing finger.

"Daph?" He kissed the back of her neck and felt her shiver in response, "Daphne, what's wrong?"

Sighing deeply, she whispered, "Velma, Shaggy, and the others are probably being ripped apart right now. While I'm here. Doing _this_ with you."

"Are you wanting to be slaughtered right along with them?"

"Of course not," she snapped, "I just…feel so damn guilty. Please, just tell me we made the right decision."

"Well, you have nothing to worry about. I believe they are still alive for the moment." Fred began drawing random patterns on her back with his index finger.

Curious, Daphne rolled over to face him, quirking an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

He resumed his lazy caresses, going across her belly this time, "I am involuntarily linked to the Nanite King via the nanites. I can't hear his thoughts or anything, but I can sense when he's near, when he moves. And so far he hasn't left his base. Hasn't stepped one foot towards Dinkley's complex."

"You mean, you know where he is? Where he stays when he's not wrecking havoc across the Earth?"

Fred placed a kiss to her forehead, "I do. It's about an hour away from here, maybe two with all the burned out cars blocking the streets."

Daphne sat up straight from the rug, a plan forming, "Well, why don't we just go there? Bring the fight to him? We can catch him by suprise."


	10. Chapter 10

Fred rubbed his eyes with one hand, "Daphne…that's moronic. If not completely suicidal."

She huffed, "No, it's not!"

"It is! He's not…fallable, at least not in the same way humans are. Guns and knives have no effect. The only possible chance we have is Velma's new virus, which may not even work."

Crossing her arms angrily, Daphne turned her head away, avoiding all eye contact.

"You know I'm right," Fred sighed, "spending what little time we have left together is our only option. Because he _will_ come after us eventually. _And _Velma, _and_ all the others, too."

Wanting to soothe her, he reached a hand out, but she shoved it away.

This time Fred's tone held irritation, "I'm not going to apologize for being with you, Daph. For attempting to _make_ something for us."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she rolled over. Crying in front of other people, even Fred, was not her forte. The silent sobs made her shoulders quake, "But I feel so damn guilty, Freddie."

Fred leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head. Relieved when she didn't move away, he kissed the side of her neck, whispering, "You won't ever let this go, will you? Even if we have a decade together, you still won't let this go?"

"No," she answered softly, "I want to. But it will be like acid in my stomach. Always there…always reminding me that any slight happiness I have is because of my own selfishness."

Fred scooted his body closer, spooning her small frame with his larger one. He blew a puff of air over her ear, "Okay then," his voice thick with defeat, "We'll do it."

Daphne sniffed, "Do what?"

"Go to the King. Together. We'll leave at first light."

She smiled slightly behind her tears, "You really mean that?"

"I do." He punctuated the statement with a kiss to her shoulder, but it was far too lingering to be chaste. Fred didn't know if it was due to being undead or not, but he took joy in feeling the shiver run down Daphne's spine.

She reciprocated, and pushed back into his groin, suprised when she felt his member, already stiff and aching despite their activities just a few minutes ago.

Fred silently nudged her to roll onto her stomach, lifting her gently to her knees in front of him and entering smoothly from behind. He groaned his pleasure, as she was already slick from before.

Almost instantly, Fred's hopes and dreams flashed before his eyes. As if he was dying again, a new image came to mind with every forceful thrust he made, taunting him, each one a longed for fantasy that would never happen.

"You're going to move on from this, Daphne," he said, as if accusing her of some great crime, "You'll survive this and meet someone new."

She moaned in response, her face buried in the pillows.

Fred increased his pace, moving quicker now, but sharper, deeper. "You'll fall in love again and you'll marry him," he growled, "Like you never did with me."

"Shut up, Fred," Daphne hissed, pushing herself back into him, meeting his rough movements, "You know I love you!"

He pumped against her in silence for a few minutes, saying nothing, only grunts of exertion as she whimpered.

Fred slid his hands from her hips to her stomach, gently gliding over her toned abdominal muscles. His voice was thick with emotion, "You'll have kids eventually, start a family. But it won't ever be with me."

Daphne shook her head, her voice cracking, "Stop talking, Fred. Just stop."

He skimmed his fingers lightly over her taut belly again and was suddenly overcome with righteous disappointment and envy. He wasn't sure if his resurrected body was even capable of being fertile, but he always knew that he wanted to be the father of her children. Not someone else.

He desperately needed in this moment to have Daphne carry a piece of him with her always. He wanted to see her stomach swell with new life, full and round, a public declaration of what they were together and what they had made from their love, however brief.

Fred's thoughts spiraled and jealousy soon bloomed into anger because deep down, in the pit of his soul, he knew the truth. It would never happen. None of it. They would never be happy together. Daphne finally opening her heart to him, this house, his resurrection, their future…It wasn't meant to be. All of it was just a bright, shiny mirage. A tease.

Fred cursed these damn nanites living in his body. How dare they give him this second chance, give him fresh hope, only to dash it away!

He gripped her hips tightly in his rage, digging his nails into her skin, pounding into her harshly, reveling in the wet sounds of their love making and Daphne's cries of pleasure.

Being so close to release, it took real effort to push out words, "Don't forget me, Daphne."

"Fred…"

"I'm serious," he snapped, "I'm giving you my all. My life. Again. Don't forget me. Don't forget _this_."

He wasn't sure if she responded, or if she even heard his demands as his own orgasm moved through his body, exploding inside her in a heady mix of bliss and satisfaction. Through the hazy fog of his pleasure, Fred continued to thrust. He watched in awe as Daphne reached her release as well. Her back arched, skin slick with shared sweat, and every muscle inside tightly clenching around him. If he wasn't so spent, it was enough to make him want to go another round.

They collapsed together on their makeshift pallet, syaing nothing. Daphne buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent, hoping to remember it always, as Fred's arms drew her close.

XXXXXX

When Daphne awoke, it wasn't of the relaxed or pleasent variety, but the jerky kind. Knowing instinctively that something was wrong as she felt around for Fred's reassuring presence. Her hand patted farther and farther across the threadbare quilt until the realization struck.

_He's gone._

_Gone to face the Nanite King._

_Without her._

Sitting straight up, she wrapped the blankets tighter around her nude form.

"Damn him," she muttered, "Damn that Fred Jones!"

XXXXXX

The birds had begun to chirp, beginning their start to a bright new day, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic world around them while a sulky Fred kicked a pebble down a deserted road.

He had left the moment Daphne had fallen asleep, tracking his way slowly towards the Nanite King with every step, using his internal nanite instinct. He wondered if the King could sense him too, or if this ability was one-sided.

Fred knew Daphne was being earnest and serious. She was giving off "live or die" vibes, and although it touched his heart that she would go to such lengths with him, he just couldn't allow her do it. Life, as he'd learned after his own death, is precious. If he did anything meanwhile during his ressurrected life, it would be to make sure Daphne survived.

After hours of walking, Fred stopped at the rusty metal gate surrounding a massive building. A fading sign read "Museum of Human History" and he gave a faint chuckle, seeing that the King had a macabre sense of humor.

As if to prove a point of how vile the Nanite King can be, Fred saw ominous storm clouds rolling in and could hear the rumble of distant thunder. He supposed he couldn't have asked for a better backdrop for today. Whether it leads to the King's demise…or his own.

The front doors were unlocked and heavy as he opened them, and slamming loudly when they closed. He winced as the loud noise echoed around the museum's marble floors and cathedral-like ceilings, announcing his entrance.

With all pretense of stealth gone now, Fred called out, "Hello?"

In response, a crow up in the rafters cawed at his question and flapped it's feathers, but no sentient person answered back.

With only a few streaks of sunlight snaking in from the dusty glass panels, his undead eyesight adjusted quickly to the dim exhibits. Making his way from the atrium into the first room, Fred could see caveman-esque manaquins painting on cave walls or discovering fire. Blessedly, the museum must have been closed during the nanite plague because no human remains littered the floor. The cleanliness of the building was a stark contrast to the decaying, filthy world outside.

He walked closer to the Neanderthal display, idly reading the informative poster on the wall when a deep, baritone voice spoke from beyond the shadows,** "It's disappointing, isn't it brother? How far man has fallen? So much potential...wasted."**


	11. Chapter 11

Fred's eyes scoured the low lit room, searching for some shape of the Nanite King. But what form would a creature like that take? He'd never met the monster himself, only heard of his cruelty and dislike of the human race through his nanite connections.

"You're not my brother," Fred said with defiance into the darkness, "Show yourself. I'm not scared of you."

A low chuckle vibrated around the museum, making Fred's bones rattle. It was not a pleasant sound.

**"Oh it was never my intention to frighten you, Fred; as we are indeed, brothers. In death, you had shed your pathetically fragile human body, and through the blessed nanites were reborn into something wonderous. Something….above all others on Earth. Much as myself."**

As if made of mist, small silver particles, or what Fred had mistakenly assumed were dust motes, began to converge together. Not a recognizable mass at first, but soon long limbs, a muscular trunk, and a very inhuman face took shape. The King's skull was pointy to a tip, from top to chin. His entire body had an odd metallic look about it, almost shiny.

Fred quirked a blonde eyebrow, "For all your spiel about being my brother, I don't see any family resemblance."

The King smiled, which somehow made him look even more monstrous, **"Our commonality lies within your new genetic make-up, not our outward appearance."**

XXXXXX

Daphne's sight narrowed on the four-armed beast as she pulled the trigger, watching it's head explode into a mess of gore. She didn't stop to admire her deadshot aim and kept moving, heading in the direction that she assumed Fred had gone in.

Damn him. Confronting the Nanite King all alone. Leaving me to grieve and worry...

Again.

When she finally catches up to him, she cant decide if she's going to punch him in his smug face or kiss him senseless. Probably both.

Thankfully, luck was on her side this time. Since Fred had come back from the grave, his walk had a zombie-ish slouch to it, his left foot dragging slightly, making an obvious trail in the dirt. Hopefully he wasn't too far ahead and she wasn't too late.

XXXXXX

**"I suppose that your red-headed consort has asked you to kill me?"**

Fred smirked, showing his guilt, "Am I that easy to read?"

The King snapped his thin silvery fingers and an exquisite throne assembled out of nowhere, seemingly made of the same material that the King himself was composed of.

Sitting down with as much poise as any royal, he rested his shiny head on his fist,** "Not really, you still have human elements within your bones and humans, unfortunately, are incredibly predictable. The ultimate creatures of habit. You are ruled by petty feelings like lust, pride, anger, shame…when you should be guided by technical advantages that are presented. The Great Mother was more like us in that aspect."**

Fred waved him off, "Velma? She might've been a tad cold before the plague, but she's just as emoti onal now as the rest of us. I think it was just difficult for her to show it."

The King continued,** "Since she created me, I will offer her the chance to spare her life and that of her unborn child, once we launch our final attack on their pitiful headquarters."**

A ping of fear flashed through Fred's heart, "What about the others? Shaggy? Scrappy? Daphne?"

The King shrugged his shoulders,** "The end result is the same. Exterminate the real plague that is the human race, and begin a new, perfect world. Which is where you would become a critical asset to me."**

"And should Velma refuse? She's as stubborn as a mule. You'll never be able to convince her with your world domination rhetoric."

**"Then she will die as well."**

The Nanite King's statement was said with such coldness and finality that Fred's face paled even further from his usual grey complexion. It appears the rumors spread by the nanites were true, The Nanite King was indeed a soulless monster.

**"I can accomplish my vision on my own, but that would take massive amounts of time and energy. A more efficient way could be achieved with you by my side as my right hand man, so to speak."**

Fred glared, his red eyes blazing, "I'm nothing like you. Nothing on this planet could make me join your deluded cause."

The King held up a pointed finger, sharper than any knife, **"Ah, my dear brother, but that is where you are mistaken. I know what you desire most and I have the ability to give it to you, in exachange for your loyalty."**

"I've already said. Nothing you can-"

**"How much longer do you think you can contain your hunger, Fred? A few weeks? Eventually you'll give in to those undead cravings."**

Fred clenched his teeth together, his fists balling up against his sides, "I have no idea what you're jabbering on about."

**"Despite your futile attempts to play house with that firey woman, you are still a corpse; albeit, with a conscious. But sooner or later, you'll snap. Animal flesh will no longer dull the hunger, and you'll tear her throat out while she sleeps."**

"I'd never…," he started, Fred's voice shaky. Or was his whole body trembling at the mere thought of hurting Daphne? Or that there might be truth in the King's prediction?

**"Oh, you will. Some time soon, I expect. If currency was in any way valuable to me, I'd be willing to bet money that you've already starting imagining yourself gnawing on her-"**

"Enough! I would rather pull my own heart out, than hurt her," he croaked, eyes squeezed tight. If he were capable of producing tears, Fred knew he'd be a blubbering mess by now.

**"There is an alternative. I offer you an exchange of sorts. You stand by me and my endeavours...and I shall you give you new life. Better, even, then the one you had before."**

"Bullshit," Fred spat, "You aren't God. You don't have that type of power."

**"I believe me and God now work in the same realm, brother. We are both capable of snatching life away when we deem the creation unworthy, and are equally able to give life to those who deserve it."**

The King grinned ghoulishly and snapped his fingers.

Fred crossed his arms over his chest, not impressed, "Was something spectacular supposed to happen? 'Cause I don't feel any different."

The King sat back on his throne, looking smug for reasons that Fred couldn't fathom, when he felt it. A tingle. Faint at first, but growing stronger by the second. It was nearly pulsing in his ears, the sound almost forgotten. Placing his hand on his chest, Fred could feel it beneath his palm thumping rhythmically.

His heartbeat.

Eyes wide in shock, he glanced down at his hands and saw that his flesh was now a healthy peach color, with no signs of the nasty grey coloring and red veins. Even the stub of his missing finger had mysteriously grown back.

Turning to face a reflective display case, Fred watched as his glowing red eyes slowly dimmed to reveal his normal steel blues. "What have you done to me? Is this a trick?" He whispered.

Again, the King laughed, and it shook Fred to his soul, **"No tricks. I have given you a taste of what your rewards will be when you take your rightful place at my side. We will bring this miserable earth and all who dwell in it under my rule and make it perfect. As it should be. As The Great Mother wished it to be."**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please review! They are always encouraging!


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